


Emerald with Envy

by lovehotelreservation



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Creampie, Cunnilingus, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Jealousy, Marriage, Romance, Smut, Undressing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehotelreservation/pseuds/lovehotelreservation
Summary: You weren't looking at him. You were looking at the crowd, the orchestra, the lead actor of the show. Claude knew it couldn't be helped. You had to shift your gaze elsewhere. He understood why you didn't want to look at him.Even if he was your husband.And yet, as he continued to watch you perform on stage, he just couldn't ignore the envy that was beginning to seize hold of his heart.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Reader
Comments: 17
Kudos: 509





	Emerald with Envy

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO BELOVED!!! it's been a while since I've completed writing this piece, but with the holidays here, I thought now would be nice to post the rather l e n g t h y Claude piece I've been working on. CONSIDER THIS AN EXPRESSION OF MY FEELINGS AFTER ACHIEVING HIS S SUPPORT ENDING AFTER THE WAR ; v ;
> 
> ANYHOW I HOPE U ENJOY!!!

For all his tremendous efforts, crafted schemes, and unwavering resolve, there was something just so humorously ironic that Claude von Riegan, the newly annointed king of Almyra, could not even get a general admission ticket to a sold out show by the Mittelfrank Opera Company.

And yet he could not bring himself to chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

It was not so much as his standing as king that caused the issue--especially with Archbishop Byleth's successes of bridging Fódlan together with other nations.

Rather, he was simply too late to buy a ticket for tonight's performance. The theater house was packed to the brim with nobles and common folk, all eager to witness the last run of a special production directed by none other than Mittelfrank Opera's former songbird, Manuela Casagranda.

And while Claude was curious to see how a show under his former instructor's helm had turned out, his true reason for zooming across the skies on his wyvern from Almyra to Enbarr was the star of the evening's show.

The Golden Deer representative who had won the White Heron Cup of the year 1180.

The one who would soon bear the crown as queen of Almyra.

You, the wife he cherished above anything else in the world.

And while he never doubted your love for him, he understood if there was a wariness in your heart.

He was asking so much of you upon quietly taking your hand in marriage after the war before immediately heading off for Almyra, after all.

But you understood him, as you had all this time. Beyond just his own vision, his actions in Almyra would shape the world for the better--for the kinder. As sad as it was to part so soon after the two of you had exchanged your vows, you eagerly awaited the beginning of a lengthy letter correspondence between you both.

It was by those letters that he learned of the show in the first place.

Your lifelong passion for performance had led up to this debut with the Mittelfrank Opera. However, constant negotiations and intense reformation within Almyra demanded his presence throughout nearly the entirety of the show’s run. With the production ending on this very night, your last letter expressed hope that he would be able to come watch you on the stage that served as the realization of your dreams.

And thus, rather than stand downtrodden outside the theater with a gorgeous bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a new Almyran-crafted wedding ring in his pocket to adorn your finger, he still made his way inside.

Backstage to be precise.

With all his efforts in his motherland, sneaking by security was nothing for him.

Surely, while he was going to have to figure out just which spot in the theater he would have to scale along for a good view of the stage, his utmost priority was seeing you.

To say hello, to kiss with love, to embrace so tight, to adorn with gifts.

Though, with the bustle of actors in the midst of powdering their faces and tugging at tights, orchestra members preparing to saunter out to their seats with instruments in hand, and the overall chaos of stage hands preparing scenery pieces and props, finding your dressing room wasn’t going to be easy, especially with the performance so close to starting.

However, he only managed a couple minutes of searching before a familiar robust and pristine voice called out to him.

"Claude? Is that you?"

Truly, Claude thought he was past the point where people could easily get the jump on him. And yet, he couldn’t hold back his surprise as he turned around with raised brows and a somewhat slack jaw.

Sure enough, with the elegant mane of fiery red hair--tied and tamed into a loose low ponytail--that was the first to catch his eye, he remarked with astonishment, "Ferdinand! Good to see you!" A grin quirking onto his lips, he took a step back as he took note of the duke’s overly embellished yet stylish red waistcoat and a matching black pair of tights and pointe shoes. "I'm digging tonight's look. No trusty horse boots though?"

Releasing a rich chuckle, Ferdinand beamed with pride as his hands rested on his waist, "A good eye, Claude! Though, I’ll happily have you know that I am performing tonight."

While not immediate, somehow Claude felt his smile wane ever so slightly. Still, maintaining his exuberance, he let out an astonished, “Really now?! That’s a surprise to me. Surely the news coverage in Enbarr isn’t so slack that a duke performing in a sold out show would go unnoticed.”

”Surely not!” Ferdinand remarked as he shook his head, a knowing smile on his features. “My inclusion was last minute, as the original male lead injured his leg during rehearsal. It was a great honor to be asked by Professor Manuela to step in as his replacement--like I could ever turn her down while she's in need.” Bringing a hand to his heart, he let out a sigh of nostalgic delight. “I happen to know this show by heart from how many times I’ve seen her perform it all those years ago. Plus to reunite in dance with--"

The moment your name was uttered from Ferdinand's lips, Claude’s shoulders tensed slightly as he immediately inquired, “Not meaning to butt in like so, Ferdinand, but where is she?" Lifting up your bouquet, he continued with a sheepish smile, “Gotta make sure these get into her hands asap.”

It was now Ferdinand whose smile turned from cheerful to reserved. His tone calming down, he answered, "As far as I know, she's still getting ready for tonight’s show.” The look in his eyes turned serious, if not narrowing slightly as he gazed towards Claude. “The last I saw her though, she did not look to be in the best of spirits. She even asked Professor Manuela for absolute privacy unless needed otherwise."

Claude felt hollow. “Did she now...?”

The words of your last letter flashed in his mind, as did memories of days from Garreg Mach. Those nights when the two of you would toe the line of curfew to instead take a stroll by the greenhouse and pond, you expressing your dreams of captivating audiences on a prestigious stage, to spread joy through the art of performance.

His response to your letter was expressing an apology, an honest admittance that he was unsure of how he would be able to take the time to come see your performance.

For someone who always managed to pull off the most inane but effective schemes, how could he have not realized that his absence during such an incredible milestone would leave you upset?

The fine wrapping paper around your bouquet crinkled slightly as he squeezed around the stems.

Noticing the change in Claude’s mood, Ferdinand let out a sigh. “All I will say is that she was hoping that you would show up to watch her. And having heard nothing from you since your last letter, she came to terms that you wouldn’t get to see her at all. This time at least.”

Claude’s lips quirked into a smile, albeit a bittersweet one as he let out a humorless laugh. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way. Though…” Resting your bouquet against his shoulder, he shook his head. “I’m not just gonna sit around and feel sorry for myself. Not when this night is--and should--be about her.”

His gaze shifted towards a nearby hallway, wondering if your dressing room was somewhere down along those walls. “I’m gonna make things right by her, whether I even have a seat or not.” Determination in his voice, he smiled as he raised his hand in a departing wave. “I appreciate the heads up, Duke von Aegir. Be careful when you break a leg out there, alright?” Amused at the thought, he chuckled, “From whatever seat I manage to whip out, I’ll be sure to give you your deserved applause as well.”

"Before you try to bring a wyvern into this sacred space to give yourself a seat, I'd rather you take this, Claude…!” Ferdinand exclaimed, his complexion paling at the idea of any sort of shenanigans occurring with Manuela around. Reaching in his pocket, he quickly withdrew and held out a theater ticket. “This was given to me for any guest of my choosing just moments ago, but it was originally set aside for this single hope that you would be in the audience."

His eyes lighting up, Claude grinned from ear to ear as he cheered, “Ferdinand, if there was ever a reason for me to take up religion, it’d be now!”

With a good-natured chuckle, Ferdinand seemed hardly affronted at his less-than-suave rush to pluck the ticket from his fingers, "It was already rightfully yours, my friend! However, if I may overstep, I would advise you go now to claim your seat, lest someone try to argue it is theirs."

Casting another glance down the hallway, his grip on the bouquet shifted. Though his gut churned at the thought of not getting to seek you out until after the show, the noble had a fair point. Yet, despite his inner conflict, his smile remained charming and untouched as he tucked the ticket into his pocket, fingers brushing against cool metal while doing so, "Right you are. I'd hate to cause a scene--tonight at least."

As the activity backstage picked up and with the ticket now in his possession, he bid his goodbyes before quickly taking off for his seat. There was much on his mind as he thought over what was revealed to him just moments ago, namely how he was going to make it up to you.

While he was already mentally cataloguing all the gifts and experiences he intended on showering and spoiling you with, he knew there was one thing that you wanted most of all.

And him being here at the theater, now seated at the balcony closest to the stage with a full view of the production below as it began, was the first step.

The title of tonight’s show brought back faint memories of Garreg Mach, having been a required read for all students as a means to have them become more cultured in the fine arts of literature. A story of a triumphant hero who sought to protect his motherland from an enemy nation that wanted to scrounge every bit of precious resources from a sacred forest, which was protected by an angelic deity.

Ferdinand eventually dragged himself onto the stage as the hero, looking distressed and weary as he was forced to retreat from battle. His character wandered about as stage hands deftly moved a set of glittering trees and flowers around in tune to the orchestra’s lamenting score.

All up until the composition fell silent before a dreamy melody filled the theater space.

Claude found himself grasping onto the railing, peering forward as a spotlight shone upon the furthest side of the stage.

In but a few moments, you soon stepped forward for your first appearance of the show.

His breath turned still, jaw slacking, eyes widening, heart fluttering.

You looked so radiant and beautiful.

While surely he would always be enchanted by your beauty, you looked so ethereal--absolutely perfect for your role. Your hair lusciously glistening under the lights of the stage, your face painted with make-up that accentuated your features, your body adorned with frills and drapes that would make for a delight to see as you danced.

Even by merely walking, you left him feeling captivated by the grace you exuded with each step.

And all the more guilty that he was not there to support you more than he did in the months leading up to the debut of the show and beyond.

Regardless, as he was already determined to amend anything and everything with you in light of his absence, Claude kept a steady eye on you throughout the performance.

As the plot progressed--with a newfound alliance between your and Ferdinand’s characters--it didn’t take long for him to remember the fact that a romance was woven into the story.

So dedicated to your role, you were able to convey a deep sense of yearning with every shy glance and each flustered sputter made towards Ferdinand, who carried himself with just as much earnest emotion.

Truly, the both of you looked as though you were lost within your own world together, even with asides to the audience, whether by a passionate decree, or a lamentful thought voiced out loud.

At no point did you look to Claude’s direction from where he sat above.

It was to be expected.

He gave you no reason to be hopeful.

Though he marveled at the sight of you carrying yourself so splendidly on stage, his elbows resting on the edge of the balcony while his chin rested upon his steepled hands, the vibrant glint of his emerald irises was more subdued.

For his eyes reflected the sight of you being embraced so affectionately by Ferdinand.

Again, you both were playing your respective roles. The war hero who was destined to fall helplessly in love with the enchanted forest’s deity.

Together, you waltzed amidst sweet, airy chords from the orchestra, Ferdinand’s arm curled around your waist, fingers laced with yours.

Together, you confessed and declared your love towards one another as he embarked for the final confrontation that would either save his country--and thereby the forest you swore to protect--or damn everything to ruin.

Together, as he staggered back from the final standoff only for his battleworn form to be caught within your comforting embrace, you shared a kiss.

And together, you both were ushered on stage for curtain call, boisterous applause welcoming the two of you for your performance.

Without fail, the theater was lively with praise from every patron for tonight’s performance.

Yet somehow, as you stood upon the stage, gazing out towards the audience with an appreciative smile on your face and a look in your eye that conveyed muted joy, one cheer caught your attention.

“That’s my girl!”

A whistle that soared through the air with such distinction, carrying a tone that was as striking as arrows that pierced the skies.

Amidst astonished gasps--was that a horrified “Claude?!” uttered from Lorenz down below?--and curious looks, at long last, you looked towards the balcony.

To him.

From the very moment he saw your head shift towards his direction, he beamed from ear to ear, bringing his fingers to his lips as he whistled once more.

The look on your face wounded Claude’s heart from how preciously surprised it was.

This only made him want to swoop you right into his arms and barrage you with kisses, to make up for lost time, for all the affection he could not physically convey.

And so he quickly took off to do exactly that.

As the audience proceeded to make their leave, Claude used the opportunity to sneak his way backstage once more.

Undeterred by any security who would come to stand in his way nor the near endless wave of cast members and orchestra musicians alike, he hurriedly sought out to find you--as he was certain that you were probably scrambling to seek him out as well.

However, the moment he was able to reach the main lounge area, he soon faced the sight of you, still looking so radiant in your costume.

All while surrounded by a multitude of adoring admirers, namely those of nobility, all of whom were instantaneously recognizable.

As he anticipated, there was Lorenz, singing high praises of your performance while near bathing you with roses. From how much he prattled out his passion for the show and the opportunity to watch the esteemed Mittelfrank Opera, it was more likely than not that he would refrain from bringing up Claude’s outburst.

By his side was a grinning Sylvain, who crooned on your graceful movements and expressed his appreciation for the fit of your dress. He gifted you with a bouquet of red orchids, but not before plucking a short-stemmed one to tuck behind your ear.

And as this occurred, Ferdinand stayed near you. While surely it was to catch up with Lorenz and Sylvain, he hovered by your side protectively as to ward off any bold, intense advancements towards you.

There was a look of overwhelmed but touched awe on your face as you were bestowed by a multitude of sweet words and gifts.

The eagerness in Claude’s smile waned.

And the wrapping paper of his bouquet crinkled slightly further in his hands.

”--with this, it would be best for us both to prepare for the cast dinner celebrating the final show,” Ferdinand hummed with a satisfied smile. “I do hope to see the two of you there. Professor Manuela would be thrilled for a reunion.”

”But of course!” Lorenz declared haughtily with a flick of his silken purple locks. “To miss out on this opportunity would be a disgrace on my nobility.”

Memories from the Officers’ Academy resurging into his mind, Sylvain’s expression became rather tense. “Professor Manuela huh…” Still, his expression soon brightened as he continued, “So long as all those pretty ballerinas are around, I’m game.” His eyes shifting towards you, one closed in a wink. “Especially if you’ll be there, angel.”

”Me?” You repeated curiously right as Ferdinand proceeded to lead you towards the dressing rooms with his arm raised in a polite wave, all while eyeing Sylvain sternly.

”We’ll see the two of you later then!” He remarked, all the while he swore that he saw a familiar flash of golden fabric from the corner of his eyes right as he guided you away.

With the fervor of everyone beginning their celebrations early with champagne and hors d'oeuvres or preparing to leave for the celebratory banquet, you and Ferdinand didn’t get to speak much once he brought you to your dressing room. Before he left to change in his own reserved room, he confirmed the details of the evening’s dinner with you.

Upon his leave, you soon let out a sigh as you took in the emptiness of your dressing room.

For just a moment, Claude was here in this theater, cheering for you at the top of his lungs.

And now he was not.

It almost felt like this was the twist in your dream that would cause for you to jolt up in bed.

There was so much swirling about in your mind and heart, all much too vast for you to even attempt to sort through, especially right before a celebration that called for merriment and bliss.

Not wanting to possibly damper the atmosphere of dinner, you resolved to sort this out upon returning home.

As you prepared to set down your gifted flowers and the like, you noticed that at the very center of your vanity was a bouquet of your favorites.

Astonished, you froze in place as a hushed “Claude?” tumbled from your lips.

“Heheh, now _that’s_ the sound I’ve been wanting to hear.”

And then you heard the door lock.

You were swift to turn around.

There, proceeding to lean right against your dressing room door with a playful twinkle in his eye and a cheeky grin on his lips was none other than your husband.

Though his attire was more Almyran in style, his matured, yet still boyish features now more devilishly rogue by his decision to grow out his beard--one still kept neatly trimmed along his jaw--the man before you was the one to whom you had sworn an eternity with.

Claude.

Just as when you were too stunned to do anything but gawk in awe when he called out to you on stage, you were frozen from the rush of feelings that came surging from within at the sight of him. The indescribable joy of seeing him in front of you after so long, the immense relief that he was able to see you perform at least once, the lingering bittersweetness of his absence.

You didn’t know what to do or say.

He could tell with just a single look.

Still, his tone was light, now especially gentle as he spoke to you while his expression softened. “Something wrong?” He stepped closer, his usual proud stature loosening as he neared you. “I understand if I’m probably the last person you want to see--”

You held up both of your hands.

He felt something prick at his heart.

While you braved a smile on your face, you reassured with a shake of your head. “No it’s fine. I just…” You quickly turned around, your back facing him once more. “Just give me a moment to get out of this, okay?”

The sight of your back only weighed heavier on his heart. While he still played everything off coolly, he craved nothing more than to absolve the tension that was keeping the two of you apart. Though you could hear the grin in his voice, you couldn’t hear the ache in his soul. “A moment to wait for you is nothing. Take your time.”

While he went to mind himself with all there was to see in the room--scripts, costumes, small portraits of Mittelfrank alumni--you proceeded to change out of your dress.

Or at least, attempted to.

Being married, undressing in front of your husband wasn’t what was causing your fingers to tense.

It was this overall situation, this feeling of guilt for being upset over a noble cause, of feeling selfish for a man who just wanted to change the world for the better.

Your love for Claude was undoubtedly there.

But there was a lonely sadness that had lingered for so long nonetheless.

Which only made it more and more difficult to reach for the hooks and silk ties that held the back of your dress’s corset.

As your focus sunk deeper into the twisted nature of your feelings, this endeavor amidst such a tense situation only caused your body temperature to rise for a myriad of reasons.

But it only took the feeling of warm, calloused hands taking hold of your struggling ones for you to feel a welcome, shivering chill.

Furthered by the heat of breath that fanned over your ear and neck.

“Need some help?”

Standing before your vanity, you gazed at the reflection shown on the mirror, of you and your husband together.

Once again.

You had a feeling of where this moment would soon lead to. While one side was elated for what you foresaw, a part of you was adamant to not allow for your emotions to be swayed and cast aside so easily.

Steadying your voice as best as you could, you reassured, “I-It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it--”

“I may not have to worry about it, but what kind of husband would I be if I left my pretty wife to struggle?”

His eyes peered at you as he stared at your reflection off the mirror before you, his words murmured just centimeters away from your ear. Though his tone carried some mirth and his lips were quirked in a smile, the usual playful light in his eyes was muted, his emerald irises dark and shadowed.

It was a look of passion.

And of love.

Just for you.

The tension in your fingers weakened within his grasp.

”...I’d appreciate your help then.”

And help he did.

Seeing your costume for the first time up close, he could be forgiven for any fumbling, especially while trying to assist you. Tugging at the top halter tie of your dress revealed a small hook that had to be undone, the tugs of your corset’s strings revealed clasps that his nimble fingers made quick work of.

As he continued to slowly help you undress, he could tell when the heat of his breath ghosting over your bare shoulders and his fingers brushing along your sides made you stiffen or shiver. While he certainly wouldn’t have minded if you shut your eyes in pleasure, what he came to notice was that you eyes were downcast to the floor, instead of staring right ahead to your respective reflections.

And in turn--

“You’re not looking at me.”

He found himself gripping onto the front bow that crossed right over your decolletage, emotions pushing the words past his lips before rationality could retain them in place.

Your eyes suddenly flashed towards the mirror, wide from surprise. “I’m sorry?”

In any other situation, he would have taken a step back to calm himself so he could approach the situation sensibly. But knowing that there was so much hesitation in your heart that you probably felt too guilty to admit, there was just no way that he could refrain.

His other arm curled around your waist as he drew you against him, holding your body close as he rested his chin on your shoulder with a sigh and a bittersweet smile.

“It’s selfish of me, especially to even bring this up as something bothersome. All night, you’ve had your eyes cast elsewhere.” His eyelids closed for a moment as he recalled your performance. “To the audience, to Ferdinand, Lorenz, Sylvain--and now your eyes are looking everywhere besides me, even when I’m right here, holding you in my arms like this.”

While his emerald stare revealed itself once more, he proceeded to bury his face into your neck, lips barely tracing over the delicate skin as he murmured, “But you have good reason to do so. I won’t deny that.”

Lifting his head, he gazed up at you with reverence as your eyes shifted over to look into his. "Actions say so much more than words ever could, and all I want to do is show--rather, to reaffirm the undeniable fact that you are the most important person in my life."

His fingers lingered at the front bow of your dress. From what he could assess, one tug at the fabric would free and expose your chest. As much as he craved to see your skin after so long, he waited for what you had to say.

You were quiet in response, an understandable hesitation given everything that had happened.

Though, he didn’t have to wait for an answer for long, by the way your hand rested comfortably over his and squeezed, all while you stared at him earnestly with the soft but yearning response of, ”Then show me.”

Claude had nothing else to say, but an answer to give.

The kiss he then hungrily planted on your lips was just the beginning.

Upon the dressing room sofa where you would sit upon to read over the script or letters from your husband while steadying your racing heart prior to a performance, there was a flutter within your chest as you were laid upon it with an urgency that was as needy as it was tender.

With all the intricacies of your dress, usually Claude would have loved to take his time tugging and undoing every ribbon and button, a pride in the dexterity of his nimble fingers as he undressed you like he would unwrap a present.

However, at this moment, after so long, he was in no mood for such indulgence. If something had to be torn or ruined, so be it. As king, he could easily offer monetary compensation to the seamstress of your costume --perhaps even commission for more lovely outfits for you to wear.

The orchid that Sylvain tucked behind your ear joined your pile of discarded clothes, with his Almyran garb soon following suit.

For every inch of skin revealed to his eyes, his mouth watered to kiss while his fingers ached to touch. He almost forgot to strip you completely from the moment his lips encircled around your nipples, all while his palms kneaded your breasts. How could he have ever forgotten the sweet warmth of your skin against his nuzzling face?

Your mewls from his attention to your chest reminded him to continue onward. For as much as he wanted to near worship your chest, there was still so much more of you he wished to revere once again. His lips continued their journey downwards, mouth ghosting over your stomach, trailing over your hips. His teeth just barely caught hold of the band of your panties before he tugged them down to your thighs, his hand dragging them off before he spread your legs wide apart.

Beneath the flickering flames of your dressing room chandelier, your naked body was bathed in soft golden light. Even now, fully stripped of your costume of a forest enchantress, you still looked so gorgeously ethereal.

As he thought during his days spent at the Officers Academy to now, you were lovelier than any divine deity.

His gaze shifted down to between your thighs, love and lust clouding his emerald eyes in a haze. Catching sight of the glistening shine of your dribbling core, he let out a groan before hurriedly planting his face down, his lips eagerly parted. Long, skillful strokes of his tongue had you mewling and arching against his head.

He grinned happily to himself. Even after so long, he still knew how to make you squirm by his self-proclaimed golden tongue, whether by its teasing flicks or the utter filth he would murmur to you. The focused pressure of quick circles over your clit to tender suckles had his name pouring out from your lips.

And truly, he did not want to cease. After countless months from having your addictive taste linger on his lips, he was ready to spend the night with his face right between your thighs.

However, it was for that same reason he could not indulge for too long, if by the increasingly aching throb of his cock.

For too long he had been away from you.

It was time at last that the two of you were joined together once again in the absolute most intimate way possible.

Looming above you upon the couch, chest broad and fine with hair, eyes gleaming with need and affection, Claude was settled between your legs. “Fuck,” was the word hissed so sinfully from your husband’s lips as he nudged the leaking tip of his cock against the slickness of your center.

Right as he slowly slid every heavy inch of his dick inside you, his lips sought out yours for yet another kiss. Somehow, for as much as he has kissed you up until now during this evening, he felt like he was still far from having his fill. He just wanted to make up for lost time, to satisfy his present urges, to express all the love he should have been putting more effort with doing so.

His hands cradled your waist as he worked his thrusts into a rhythm. Moderate at first, but hearing your moans and feeling your fingers thread through his hair while your legs curled around his hips encouraged him to start pounding into you. He wanted his name the only thing on your lips, to have his hair pulled and his shoulders near clawed, to have your body cling to him with absolute need.

In-between kisses that become messier, amidst the noisiness of his cock stuffing into your sopping center while his balls slapped against your ass, he still had a coherency as he spoke to you, his words husky but the look in his eyes sincere, "I've had my eyes cast to the future--our future--so much that I forgot how important it was to be with you now--"

A knock at the door.

The call of your name.

”We will be taking off soon. Are you ready to disembark?”

Ferdinand.

You were astonished, your eyes breaking contact with Claude’s to turn to the door. Your lips were about to speak when your husband spoke up, his voice cheeky yet firm.

”She’s not ready yet, but I’ll be the one to take her to dinner, Ferdinand. _We’ll_ see you in a bit.”

Ferdinand’s flustered squawk went unnoticed by Claude, who only continued to hammer his cock into you.

Your gasped “Claude-!” was smothered by his lips with yet another kiss. When the two of you parted for breath, his gaze seized contact with yours as he gruffed out, “Don’t think of Ferdinand. Him, Lorenz, Sylvain--anyone. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You were utterly surprised, breathless as you questioned, “Claude, you-- Are you jealous?”

”I’m your husband,” he clarified with absolute resolution, his grip on your waist slacking to instead give way for his arms caging around you. As his lips readied to claim another kiss from your mouth, he purred, “And I’m going to make that clear.”

He was certain that you would admonish him, whether immediately now or when the two of you were finished. However, seeing as how you were the one to initiate the kiss before he could, followed by your hands releasing his hair to cup his bearded cheeks instead, what he heard you say next was all that he could ever want to hear.

Dazed with pleasure as you were, the love in your voice and on the look of your face was absolute. “As your wife, you better.”

A wide grin soon spread over his lips. “Leave it to me.”

And so the two of you remained joined together. By lips, by skin, by words of affection. Your hips rutted back against his thrusts, his teeth made their presence known on your neck, making sure to leave at least one that would be hard to hide during dinner. It wasn’t long until you were both teetering on the edge of orgasm, you and Claude clinging and holding onto each other amidst it all.

“I’m gonna cum,” he gasped out, shuddering as he readied to draw out. “And unless you wanna get to bearing heirs already then--”

Your legs hugged his hips tighter, a mewled “That’s fine” escaping you.

Claude’s jaw went slack for a moment, just before tightening as a fiery resolve took over him as he proceeded to fuck you even harder, his voice in a low and satisfied growl, “That’s my girl. My sweet girl. Mine…!”

With the cries of each other’s names soon released into the air along with the heavy, hot rush of his seed pouring into you, your bodies soon collapsed back onto the sofa together in a satisfied heap, at last the two of you fully reunited--in body and in soul.

Though you both would have to soon get ready as to not miss dinner, for now, Claude was insistent on hugging you close so he could leave an endless trail of kisses along wherever he saw fit, all while your fingers gently stroked through his messy brown curls. The air was tender and light, any bit of tension and guilt from before completely washed away.

When his mouth met yours yet again, Claude stared at you adoringly, his tone tender as he remarked, “And to think, you’ve just captured the hearts of Fódlan with your talents on stage.” One eye closing in a wink, he grinned. “And you get to do it all over again to your adoring people in Almyra.”

Your head tilted slightly to the side, your expression curious if not confused. “My what?”

Claude froze. “Oh...right. About that--”

How he so very looked forward to spending forever with you.


End file.
